Compact Cube
by Mighty ANT
Summary: The untold story of a scarcely known C.H.R.O.M.E. Agent—Leland Turbo. A series of related oneshots
1. Chapter 1

_**Introduction**_

'_The untold story of a scarcely known C.H.R.O.M.E agent—Leland Turbo'_

_~Cars 2 characters © PIXAR 2011~_

* * *

"So you're—"the Bentley Continental glanced idly down at the clipboard for a moment—"Agent Leland Turbo?"

"Yes," the Jaguar answered, anxiously scuffing a tire into the carpet. The MI6 agent had been called into his superior's office, only for a navy Bentley to have taken the place of the old AC Ace who served as director. He'd introduced himself as 'Smith'.

The elder car nodded lightly, grey eyes scanning the clipboard for a second more, before snapping up to lock with Leland's own iris orbs, and promptly drove around the young Jaguar. "Follow me," he called in a clipped tone. The younger car turned with raised eyelids, following 'Smith' out of the office and out into the linoleum lined hallway that extended into the lobby of the SIS Building.

"If I may ask," Leland began after a moment, the Bentley having seemingly lost interest in him, instead glancing cautiously around the entrance hall of the MI6. "Why was I called out?" the navy car glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and the Jaguar quickly added, "Sir."

"You and a few dozen others were picked exclusively for a new form of training—so to speak— the test run for a project we've been working on," Smith answered airily, and Leland bit back an annoyed sigh before speaking again.

"Is this an MI6 project?"

The elder car remained silent for a moment.

"More or less."

More than a little perturbed, the Jaguar fell silent, and they continued driving through the lobby until reaching one of the elevators on the other side of the atrium, the Bentley pushing one of the buttons along the wall. A few seconds passed before the doors slid open with a _ding_, the two cars driving into the lift.

Another moment of silence passed between them, only filled by the slight trill that signaled the passing of each floor. The number of beeps never seemed to end, and Leland had to wonder how many subterranean levels the building had. And not one for silence, the blood red car spoke slowly. "So….I've been chosen for this because….?"

"You and the other candidates are the best at what they do—whether it be undercover, tech, or field work—you were all taken from your consecutive groups and organizations for this job." The Bentley answered, gaze never leaving the small electronic pad signaling the number of levels passed. Leland didn't have a clear vantage point of it, but it seemed to be somewhere in the sub-level twenties…

"And what job would that be?"

"National security," Smith answered, smirking lightly at the younger car's surprised look. "Not only do we care about the safety of Great Britain, but the US, France, Spain, and anywhere else that is within our sphere of influence and beyond."

The elevator finally reached the correct floor with a final cheerful _ding_, and the two cars rolled out into a large room, the ceiling reaching several dozen feet above their hoods, filled with cars of all models racing back and forth across the grey tiled floors. It seemed to be a sort of central hub, filled with the sounds of voices, typing, and in the distance, gunshots and metal crunching, with the most high-tech gadgetry Leland had seen in his life lining the walls and some even displayed on the cars themselves.

The Bentley Continental turned towards his gobsmacked companion with a smirk.

"Welcome to C.H.R.O.M.E, Mr. Turbo."

* * *

**A/N: Alright, so this was the first of several oneshots concerning Leland Turbo…y'know, the car that got turned into a cube, in case anyone forgot. This chapter is based around 1987, so Leland's in his late twenties—27, 28. And the Bentley Continental isn't a new model—it's an R-Type, circa '52, and an insanely beautiful car. **

**And yes, I know that I alright have around five other stories pending (and I apologize for that) but I just couldn't help it….**

**Anyways, reviews would be greatly appreciated! **

**P.S. - I will never forgive Fanfiction for not adding Leland to the character's list **

**Oh, and the name 'Smith' obviously comes from John Smith, one of the most commonly used anonymity pseudonyms **


	2. Chapter 2

**Academy **

_~Cars 2 Characters (c) PIXAR 2011~_

* * *

Leland was having a little trouble wrapping his mind around what had just occurred. He'd been literally accepted into a super-secret agency, would apparently go on missions to preserve world-wide security, and he wouldn't even bring up the truckload of high-tech gadgetry he'd receive. The only hitch—he would have to go to school to do it.

"What 'Academy'?" Leland queried skeptically, eye ridge raised as he peered over yet another desk (this one in C.H.R.O.M.E. Headquarters) at the Bentley Continental, who had yet to tell him his real name.

"Well, you can't simply _join _C.H.R.O.M.E.," the elder car said as if it were obvious, leafing through papers on his desk (again). "You need proper training."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to be stuck with a hundred new snot-nosed recruits."

Smith snorted, "There will be several others in the C.H.R.O.M.E. Academy around the same age as you. I'm sure you'll all get along well."

"Yeah, I bet," the Jaguar grumbled, and rolled back slightly after a moment. "What's your real name, anyway? I don't fancy working for a bloke I don't know what to call."

'Smith' smirked; although his gaze never left the papers he was filling out. "Walter Panel."

"Walter…Panel," Leland deadpanned, an incredulous look plastered across his features, before he shrugged. "Alright."

A few moments passed before the Bentley suddenly announced, "All done!" and pushed the paperwork further across the desk. "Now," he began, locking eyes with the Jaguar."Have you made your decision?"

Leland faltered momentarily. This was an amazing opportunity he was being presented with, where he would be able to travel the world, _save _the world, and hone his abilities far past the capacity of a normal car.

But on the other hand, with these worldwide missions, danger would surely accompany him. He would most likely 'disappear' from the grid, as to not attract attention, and could lose close to all outside contact. Peril beyond imagine…..

And yet the principle remained, that this was the chance most cars waited lifetimes for, a real engine-jarring experience, and the kind that only an idiot would say no to.

And so, the Jaguar nodded with a confident smirk. He'd be damned if he passed this up.

* * *

**A/N: This was just a bit of a filler chapter. But coming up next, we'll see a very familiar face...**

**Now please review!**

**Oh, and 'Walter Panel' is the carified version of 'Walter Plinge' another commonly used anonymity pseudonym**


	3. Chapter 3

**Training **

_~Cars 2 Characters (c) PIXAR 2011~_

_Chambertin; an expensive French wine_

* * *

The combat simulation was wholly convincing, the disguise simulators over both cars working flawlessly as they fought. Sparks flew at times, the sound of metal hitting metal resonating through the dark room.

At the moment, Leland appeared to be fighting a grey Bristol 407 in what resembled the foggy streets of downtown London, and the latter of the two was blocking every hit with trained ease. And he did so with the same cocky smirk that only annoyed the Jaguar further.

Sincerely wishing that they'd been able to use their weapons, Leland shot out another tire with practiced skill and speed, only for his attack to be cut off again. Growling in frustration, the blood red spy car wheeled back, before launching another barrage of attacks towards the Bristol. And in response, the grey car dodged every single one of them.

"Stay still you bloody—"Leland cursed, only for his opponent to tsk reprovingly, instilling an attack of his own (and of course, hitting its mark).

"That's no way to speak to a fellow agent."

"Right now you're not an agent," the Jaguar snapped, attempting to dodge a particularly close hit. "You're the enemy."

The Bristol harrumphed good-naturally, once again landing a perfect blow on his adversary. There was a moment of silence, only filled by Leland's annoyed cries and the sound of rubber against metal. "How about a wager, old chap?" the Bristol suggested suddenly, and the Jaguar avoided an attack before answering.

"What kind?"

"Winner of this round has to buy the other an entire bottle of Chambertin."

Leland hummed thoughtfully for a moment, moving aside to evade a tire flying in his direction, "Alright. What're the terms?"

"Whoever lands the best blow, wins."

"Sounds fair."

Another moment of silence passed, but Leland only bided his time, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. A minute passed, and there was the ideal opening…..

The sound of shattering glass suddenly pierced through the silence and the simulation flickered before disappearing altogether. In place of the grey Bristol stood a silvery blue Aston Martin, watching the Jaguar with a deadpanned expression, the glass from his smashed headlight littering the ground around his tires. Leland smirked proudly as his companion rolled his eyes.

"After you pay for a new headlight, I'll buy you your bloody Chambertin."


	4. Chapter 4

**Directory**

_Cars 2 Characters (c) PIXAR 2011_

* * *

"Remind me why we're doing this, McMissile?"

The Aston Martin hardly spared his companion a passing glance, gaze locked on the faded computer screen in front of him as he answered, "Because we were told to, Leland. Stop complaining."

Leland only huffed in annoyance, swiveling the mouse under his tire as he squinted to get a better look at his own decrepit monitor, "I can't believe that they can make us do this—go through new recruit files—most of these cars aren't even British!"

The elder of the two rolled his eyes at his friend's over-exaggerated frustration, gaze roving across his screen with a certain level of disinterest," we aren't agents yet, so yes, they technically can make us do this. And as you so kindly put it, 'cram it up your tailpipe, and take it like a man'."

The Jaguar's resulting glare went unheeded, and so he resorted to staring down his computer screen instead, not that it was nearly as satisfying.

"Oi, how many more years do we have to go?"

The Aston Martin turned back towards his companion with raised eyelids, "until what?"

Leland rolled his eyes at his friend's apparent cluelessness, "until we're agents, you git."

The slightly older spy car gave an outward shrug of the tire, shifting back to the agent profiles on the display," a few more years. Why?"

"So that we can make some other poor blokes do this for us."

Finn barely held back a snort, pivoting the mouse under his left tire for a moment," as if you're one to complain—you're categorizing criminal records, while I have foreign agents, and just recruited ones too. These lads are younger than the both of us." The Aston Martin paused momentarily, before suddenly clicking down on the mouse, gesturing towards the computer screen, "Take a look at this chap."

The Jaguar diverted his gaze from his own monitor to his companion's, iris orbs roving over the grainy image provided. "You know, I never understood why they gave the Simulator such advanced technology while we're stuck working with these piles of—"

"Will you just read?" Finn snapped, cutting his friend off. The younger car rolled his eyes once more, openly mocking the elder car as he jokingly mimed Finn's reprimand, driving forward slightly to peer at the screen.

The car displayed in the photo was young, more so than Leland, and American, a mix between a Dodge Challenger and Mustang. His color was unidentifiable by the image's horrid quality, but a stern, youthful look permeated his features.

"It says that his name is Rod 'Torque' Redline, a CIA Academy student and possibly a future agent," Finn began, reading off of the list of information provided. "Born in Detroit, Michigan, he joined the army three years ago at the age of eighteen before being recruited into the academy. Current age is—"

"He lied."

The Aston Martin turned his bewildered gaze towards his companion, "I beg your pardon?"

"He lied," Leland reiterated. "About his age, that is. He looks too young to be twenty-one. He must've dropped out of school around sixteen and joined the military like he said, lying about his age."

"But birth certificates—"

"—can be changed," the Jaguar interrupted. "Surely you knew that?"

After a moment of stunned silence and allowing his friend's sudden detective skills to slowly sink in, Finn gathered his wits and smirked, "sounds like you have some experience, Mr. Turbo."

The younger car seemed to flush lightly in embarrassment for a moment, eyes shifting around uncertainly prior to giving a nervous chuckle," 'course not, McMissile. I'm not serious enough to lie through an Academy interrogation…."

Finn only shrugged, and noting the Jaguar's growing discomfort, changed the subject as he turned back towards his faulty computer, "so, what do think of this chap, aside from all that lying business?"

Leland paused, apparently pondering his companion's question before answering uncaringly, "I don't believe he'll get very far."

* * *

**_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far! And another note, does anyone have any suggestions for this story, as to what would happen next? All ideas would be appreciated! _**


	5. Chapter 5

**Mission **

_~Cars 2 Characters (c) PIXAR 2011~_

* * *

This was possibly the most important milestone of his time in the Academy. His first solo mission. No teachers, directors, or higher-level agents to accompany him. Finn would on site, in case anything went wrong and he needed backup, but other than that, he'd be going in alone.

And the feeling was indescribable.

There was a supposed skirmish in Paris, in which the French ambassador's life could very well be in danger (not that _he _knew that) and Leland was being sent out to make sure everything went smoothly and that no foreign dignitaries were killed. And it didn't help that said dignitary was going to be at a very loud, very _public, _inauguration of the reopening of newly refurbished Hotel de Buci* in Paris, proudly claiming to be the oldest in the city. But the Jaguar was quick to assure that the danger was only half the fun.

The Aston Martin's feeling weren't mutual of course, being the saner of the two, and was all too aware of the intense peril a semi-solo mission –especially so early into the game—presented. He also found this as a perfect way to tease the Jaguar, and vice versa.

"I'm tellin' you, McMissile, you've been eyeing that Alfa Romeo for the better half of an hour. Go talk to her, for Chrysler's sake, before I blow a gasket out of sheer boredom!"

Finn shot his companion a glare out of the corner of his eye, and snorted, "as if you won't be doing the same to every woman in Paris."

The Jaguar gave a mock gasp, raising a tire slightly in shock, "I am appalled by your ghastly suggestion, McMissile!" Leland raised his hood into the air, sniffing self-importantly. "And I thought we knew one another."

The Aston Martin rolled his aqua eyes at his friend's theatrics, nudging him out of the main lobby and towards the hallway to their right. Driving down the linoleum corridor, the silvery blue spy car began to tune out the Jaguar's ramblings, although one sentence stuck out more than most.

"Oh, please," Finn scoffed, glancing heaven ward for a moment, as if asking for strength from up above, before turning back towards his companion. "Will you stop bringing up the Alfa Romeo? We spoke for a few moments, and that was all." A sly look crept onto the Aston Martin's features, "and who's to say you won't want fall for pretty dame yourself?"

"Ha!" Leland barked, shaking his hood in amusement. "Eh, no offense, McMissile, but I'm not really the kind of bloke to 'settle down'."

* * *

There wasn't a day that went by when Adele Voltmetrés didn't look over her life choices. And today was no exception.

Driving idly through the winding hallways that made up the French Embassy, the petite teal Citroen DS could do nothing more than sigh exasperatedly. The entire day had been interminably long, and truthfully, extremely boring. As a liaison between the MI6 and DGSE**, Adele had found her job—new and well-paying as it may be—to be quite nerve-wracking, having to deal with British 'big wigs' all day, and the high and mighty foreign officials had the Citroen riding on her last nerve. The smallest thing could've easily made her snap, making her kind personality instantly crumble.

And so, after paying her uncle a visit, (although he was ambassador, the white Renault 4CV still had time for his one and only niece before he went to the hotel inauguration) and helping a poor intern—frazzled beyond belief, and hopelessly lost—pick up the enormous pile of files she'd dropped, giving her some helpful, if somewhat vague, directions, Adele had made her way back to her office. Filled with long windows, satin curtains lining the glass, and providing the view of a large plaza a few stories below, paved by tanned tile with a large fountain in the center, it was truly a welcome sight.

Closing the door behind her, and thus disconnecting herself from the loud and hectic halls of the embassy, and fully shrouded in muted silence, the Citroen finally let out the breath she'd been holding, resting lowly on her axles as she tiredly rode over to her desk.

Dropping the files she'd been carrying on the mahogany, Adele released another long-suffering sigh, allowing herself the small moment of silence to collect herself as she slowly closed her eyes. The moment was shattered however, by the sound of breaking glass, and the Citroen's coffee-colored eyes immediately snapped open, only to find several cars surrounding her, all of whom appeared to have come smashing through her windows.

* * *

"Um, Finn…we've hit a bit of a snag in the operation…"

"_Ksst…what is it?"_ came the warbled reply over his communicator. The Jaguar was currently in a building across from the Embassy, watching with wide eyes as a group of car rappelled into one of the offices, smashing through the glass. After referencing a map of the edifice, Leland found it to be the liaison's office, and who coincidentally happened to be the contact between the DGSE and C.H.R.O.M.E., which meant that they were rather important to the agency.

"A couple of dodgy-looking blokes just crashed into the liaison's office….."

"_Ksst…well that's unfortunate,"_ Finn answered absentmindedly.

"Unfortunate? Oh c'mon, McMissile, have a heart!" the Jaguar admonished, before seriousness settling uncharacteristically over his features, "I'm going in."

"_Ksst…no, Leland. We don't have clearance to interfere just yet. I'm sure things will resolve themselves."_

"Resolve themselves, my aft!" Leland scoffed, "unless that bloke's got a black fan belt, I doubt anything's gonna go smoothly." He began to swiftly head towards the door, calling one last thing over his communicator before shutting it off altogether."I'll _resolve _this skirmish myself, and then continue the mission. Turbo, over n' out."

Finally blessed with silence, the Jaguar revved his engine as he left the building—the second story of a small café—tires hitting the cobbled road with a resounding thud, and headed for the large government structure across the street. There were hardly any cars in the plaza, only making his procedure all that smoother, and Leland could only assume that most of them would've worked at the embassy, and a majority of them would be at the inauguration only a few blocks away.

After a quick glance around, the Jaguar affirming that he was alone, he released his grapples and they hooked onto a window ledge several feet up. He rappelled up the side of the edifice at an alarming rate, soon reaching the sill. Throughout the entire ascendance, Leland could hear the sound of metal on metal and cries of pain, only hoping that he got there in time to save the poor car being pummeled. You could imagine his surprise when he landed in the office, guns out and in a defensive position, expecting to be faced with a horribly injured liaison and several other brutish cars, but the scene he was met with was quite different.

There was a petite Citroen beating some poor fool into submission, several of her attackers already unconscious with various blows across their hoods and sides. She battled the much larger cars with ease, brows furrowed. She looked positively annoyed at having to do so, but she attacked with the firmness and accuracy of a well trained spy.

Having yet to notice his presence, the Citroen continued to fight, and with a large grin, Leland activated his communicator once more.

"_Ksst—if you don't answer right now—!"_

"Oi, McMissile," the Jaguar began, cutting off his friend."Remember what I said about not being one to settle down?"

There was a pause before he was answered with a petulant, "_yes."_

Leland's smirk only grew wider as he watched the stunning little Citroen, "well, it would seem that I was mistaken."

* * *

**XD And so it begins...**

**Please review!**

***Hotel de Buci-oldest hotel in Paris (that we're currently aware of) dating back to the 16****th**** century**

****DGSE= (translated to English) the Direction for External Security- French version of the CIA, more or less. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Lovelorn **

_All Cars characters are property of PIXAR_

_Continues where last chapter left off...more or less. I apologize for not updating sooner! _

* * *

Finn could only gaze silently at the younger car as he finished his detailed account of the mission, a variety of dents pocketing different parts of his chrome, only outshone by the outrageously large grin plastered across his grill.

Once his companion's tale had ended, the Aston Martin having listened in an almost-stunned silence, (looking back on it, he really shouldn't have been surprised at all, considered the fact that it was _Leland_) raised an eyelid, "so, long story short….you met a girl?"

Leland nodded, giving almost lovelorn smile at her very mention,"yep. Adele Voltmetrés, liaison between the MI6—C.H.R.O.M.E. to some extent—and the DGSE…."

The elder car only heaved a sigh once again, doing his best to ward off the urgent need to pace in the small confined space the jet's cabin provided, "alright, let me get this straight," he finally said, looking back up to lock eyes with his colleague."I let you out my sight for less than three hours, and you've suddenly gotten a date? I'm still a bit in the dark as to how that exactly happened."

The dreamy look on the Jaguar's features was instantly replaced by one of annoyance, "well you're more daft than usual, aren't you? I already told you, some cars tried to kidnap her, since she also happens to be the ambassador's niece, and I got there just in time—"

"So this young lady—"

"—she's my age," Leland quickly cut off; smirking at the withering look he was sent. Finn then continued as if the Jaguar hadn't spoken.

"So this young lady agreed to 'go out' with you, once she regained consciousness?"

Leland observed his friend with a befuddled expression for several moments before understanding dawned,"oh, you thought—? No, you git, when I got there, she was fending off her kidnappers—heck, she already knocked _three_ unconscious. She's cunning, for a car so small…."

"And I can assume that you simply gawked until she shouted to get your attention?" the Aston Martin sighed expectantly, the dented car before him sheepishly scuffing a tire into the carpeted ground.

"…maybe…"

Finn rolled his eyes once more, glancing heavenward yet again, before droning, "and then you two agreed to stop her uncle's imminent assassination attempt, after you probably told her everything you knew about the mission and agency alike, before you both went off, with you being an obnoxious flirt the whole time."

"I would say, 'debonair', flirt," Leland corrected proudly. The Aston Martin groaned in exasperation, nearly sagging from the force of the sigh.

"What am I going to do with you…?"

"…..well, I personally believe that I deserve a medal for valor."

The elder of the two smirked suddenly, chuckling under his breath—though his brow still twitched in annoyance at his companion's quip. "Well, it seems that we'll make a family man out of you yet, Faraman."

The Jaguar's lofty expression melted into a disdainful one, and he stared down the Aston Martin through narrowed eyes, "you swore that you would never mention that again."

Finn's smirk grew wider, for once having the upper hand when it came to raising the other's ire. "Well how can I help it—having _that _as your first name just has you practically begging to be poked fun at."

Leland—or Faraman, as it be— rolled his eyes, as well as his tires, stretching out his sore axles, grumbling under his breath, "fine, you old git. But bring it up around _anyone_, and I'll have your hood."

The Aston Martin snickered, "that'll be the day. I'll see you crushed into a cube before that occurs."

"A million thanks for jinxing me, McMissile."

* * *

"_Hey, uh, Finn can I tell you something?"_

"…_..that depends. What is it?"_

"_Did you ever think you'd….amount to much?"_

"_What do mean?"_

"_This entire spy thing….C.H.R.O.M.E., the training….everything."_

"_Well what kind of child doesn't imagine themselves as a master of espionage at some point or another? But in response to your question…no, I did not believe that I would amount to much of anything….why the sudden soul-searching, Faraman? It isn't like you."_

"…_If you didn't call me that, I'd be exceedingly happier."_

"…_Then what should I call you?"_

"…_Leland. Leland Turbo'll do."_

"…_Well alright then, Leland. So, in accordance to my query?"_

"_Ah, yes…well….have you ever been to the Alps?"_

"…_.I believe so. Why?"_

"_That's where I'll be buried one day."_

"_Why so morbid, my friend? You still have quite a lot of living left in you….if we survive through this training regiment of course."_

"…'_s where my parents are. One way or another, I'll be joining 'em eventually."_

"_Hm…makes sense, I suppose."_

"_Aye, um, McMissile? Can ya' promise me something?"_

"_It depends on what it entails, old friend."_

"_Make sure I get there, once my time comes…so that I'll at least have that little piece of mind."_

"…_.of course, Fara—Leland. You have my word."_

* * *

_**A/N: Faraman- literally means 'family man'. I thought it would be funny…**_

_**And as for the Alps reference, that'll probably come into play at some other time…since those mountains border France, Sweden, and Germany, Leland (actually Faraman in my imagination) probably has relations from one of those places—perhaps Swedish, on his mother's side. I don't know, as I still have to work it out as well. They would've been higher class too, what with the secluded burial ground and all. **_

_**And the dialogue bit at the end...just a last minute thing, and I was also too lazy to add speaker tags and descriptions...thought it would also be cooler without them...**_

_**Reviews are love :T**_


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